Rare Mornings
by DarkestAngellic
Summary: It is rare for Chaos to waken before his lover. He rather enjoys these mornings.


_**Disclaimer: I own nothing from FFVII, not the settings, not the characters, not the names. Nothing. I own absolutely nothing. It is all the property of the wonderful Square Enix.**_

_**A/N: **__**I know what some of you are thinking - this is quite the odd pairing. And I will agree with you on that. However, ever since I started RPing and have had the pleasure of interacting with one of the best Sephiroth RPers I have ever encountered... I love this pairing. Absolutely love it.**_

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It wasn't often Chaos stirred before Sephiroth. A rare occurrence indeed - his silver-haired lover was quite the early bird. Today was one of those rare mornings, amber eyes watching the man sleep, breathing even and slow, an easy rhythm Chaos frequently found lulled his body into a state of relaxation and eventual sleep. But for now, with light and shadow still warring for dominance in their bedroom, he is content to remain awake and watchful. Of Sephiroth's awareness he has no doubt - a harsh life of training and war had taught the man to be aware even in sleep. One minute change in his surroundings could have him bolting upright and swinging Masamune faster than his heart could make its next beat. Sephiroth no doubt knows Chaos is awake and looking at him but they've been together long enough that such observation no longer rouses the man from sleep.

Chaos' gaze flits over his face; the jaw he remembers mouthing along the night before, pale cheeks, resting on closed eyes (not so long ago dark with arousal and lust), the mako glow bright even through his eyelids, fine eyebrows… a faint smile touches his lips and he reaches over with his flesh hand to gently stroke silver bangs away from Sephiroth's face. He is careful to keep his touch gentle, but not too light. Movements designed to avoid disrupting Sephiroth's slumber usually wake him the fastest - a belief of attempted harm he had learned in Wutai when his enemies had tried numerous times to sneak into his tent, undetected, and slash a dagger across his throat. Obviously no-one succeeded, but those days in Yuffie's country had marked Sephiroth, mentally scarring him for the rest of his life. Habits he had developed in his teenage years followed him even now, seemingly burned into his very bones. A quiet sigh escapes him even as he moves closer, fingers trailing down to his throat, pausing over the pulse point before continuing on, coming to rest on a strong shoulder. There are no marks on the pale flesh, but many nights spent learning of one another's past has granted him insight to the many injuries Sephiroth sustained during his SOLDIER days. He had been hit by a bullet here, Chaos remembered, fingertips tracing over the area and silently marvelling at the lack of scar tissue. He's lost count of the bullets having entered and exited his own body, and several have left their marks. The fact Sephiroth has none is testament to how fast his body can heal, how thoroughly it mends damage. He moves on, sliding down to his lover's collarbone, another site of past injury, swirling invisible lines onto the flesh stretched taut over it.

Chaos keeps up his gentle exploration until his hand finally comes to rest on Sephiroth's chest, more like a solid wall of muscle to be honest, palm flattened over the heartbeat he has come to memorise. This one sound he can pick out in a building full of humans, this one rhythm capable of sending him to sleep or sending him into full-blown panic depending on how it alters, what each minute change means. But for now it steady and strong, a sign that Sephiroth is very much alive and well, each pulse sending liquid temptation through his veins. Chaos has tasted that blood numerous times, has delighted in tipping Sephiroth's head to the side and sinking his fangs beyond the thin sheath of flesh to the veins beneath; and every time he has taken from his lover Sephiroth has turned the tables on him and treated him to some rather rough sex. A pleasure most would assume Chaos liked, given the demonic nature he usually keeps smothered.

But for now he is content to feel that heart beat beneath his palm, hear its song and listen to the rush of blood through veins. For now he is content to watch while Sephiroth slumbers, loathe to disturb his rest. This peace they have, this quiet, is something to be savoured, Sephiroth's features relaxed from their usually guarded state a sight to be treasured and stored in his mind for as long as Chaos exists. A half hour passes in this fashion before he settles beside his powerful lover once more, closer than when he first woken, relaxing under the warmth he can feel from Sephiroth's body and the quiet breaths stirring at a dual-tone strand of hair determined to stay on his cheek. He doubts sleep will claim him before Sephiroth wakes, but he is happy with just lying there.

"Watchful bat." The muttered words, laced with quiet affection and a touch marred by the haze of sleep has quiet laughter spilling free from his lips and he opens his eyes again to see glowing jade peeking at him from beneath long lashes. Yes, he truly does enjoy these rare mornings where he wakes first.


End file.
